A Witch Down Under
by Banana Flavored Eskimo
Summary: Her original intention was to simply remove a memory charm. Never did she imagine meeting a cocky Aussie with a penchant for using odd slang. (PyroxHermione)


**A Witch Down Under**

**01 Australian Vernacular**

**By: Banana Flavored Eskimo**

* * *

How completely and utterly exhausting.

Was it possible to be this hot?

It was February and yet the sun was shining down and basking the land in its' sweltering heat.

Merlin she missed London.

Stumbling into a ramshackle little bar – the only recreational establishment as far as she could see, she practically collapsed on an empty stool.

It was only four in the afternoon, so business was slow. Not many people would be present until later in the evening. However, she sincerely doubted that many would frequent this place if ever.

The town was small and kilometres from a big city.

Essentially she was, and hoping that she was using this expression properly, back O'Burke – in the middle of nowhere.

Her breath came out in labored pants as she rested her head against the counter.

"G'Day. What's got a sheila like you zonked?"

Honeyed eyes stared at him from underneath her mass of curls. Propping herself upwards, she leaned heavily on her arms, the movement unknowingly drawing attention to her chest.

"I hadn't realized that it could be so bloody hot," she said miserably.

The bartender, a young tanned gentleman with sun kissed tresses and a body that was absolutely sinful, gave her a leering smile. "Hey mates. Looks like we got ourselves a pommy!"

Frowning, she searched her mind. Where had she heard that term before? Judging from the chuckles it drew from the two other males present, she didn't think it was particularly flattering.

"Aw, don't be like that. I din' mean to make you aggro."

Shaking her head, she stared at him slightly puzzled. "I don't really understand what you're saying to me."

She was cute, he'd give her that.

Scratch that. This sheila was certainly easy on the eyes. When she walked in, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander. In a place like Laverton, not many new faces came around.

That was how he knew that she was new.

That and he would have remembered those legs. In fact, he would have had them wrapped around his waist on a regular basis.

Stems like that had to be against the law. Didn't help any that she was wearing a pair of denim cut-offs and a flimsy little tank that was drenched in sweat so it clung to that tight little body of hers oh so deliciously.

Hair was a bit on the wild side, but he liked it. Made her look rootable.

He shook his head.

Smiling charmingly – or what he hoped to be charming – at the little chick, he leaned towards her.

She leaned back.

Cute.

"How about I get you a VB and we'll be apples right sheila?"

Crinkling her nose, she just continued to stare at him in confusion.

"Oi! Think she can skol that?" Asked a middle-aged man in a trucker cap and with a protruding middle.

She shook her head. Skol? VB? Apples?

She decided right then and there that she hated Australian vernacular.

"Don't be like that sheila," said the bartender with that damnably attractive grin of his.

"My name isn't sheila," she said.

Laughter rang throughout the bar as the three males all chortled loudly at her words.

She frowned. She didn't think it to be that funny.

Setting a tall glass of beer in front of her, he grinned that sinful grin of his. "What's your name then luv?"

She blushed.

Now that word she understood and accompanied by that delicious smirk of his, she found that it wasn't the weather that had made her feeling so hot this time around.

"Hermione."

The bartender drew in a breath. "Now that's a beaut'. Call me John."

"His name is Saint-John," called the other male, obviously tipsy from the way he was leaning against the wall.

Hermione raised a brow. Saint-John? He didn't look anything like a Saint. In fact, he looked like the devil.

"It's none of yer bloody bizzo what my name is. Go back to drinking and rack off."

The inebriated man made a rather rude gesture before swaying his way through the door.

Hermione bit her lip. Most definitely not a Saint. With a mouth like that, he had to be Satan. Then again with a mouth like that, she found herself wanting to fall from grace.

"So Hermione," began John in a low drawl. "What brings you here?"

The brunette fidgeted in her seat. Merlin, he had a sexy voice. "My parents."

"Yea?"

The witch frowned. She had faced down Death Eaters, trolls, a crazy megalomaniac bent on world domination and she was nervous in front of this stranger? She needed to pull herself together! She was a Gryffindor!

She took a short breath to gather that infamous courage her house was known for. "My parents Henry and Jean Grant."

"The dentists!"

Dentists? They were still dentists? She supposed she wasn't that surprised. It seemed that even though she had modified their memories, they still decided to practice dentistry.

John smirked. The Grants had a kid. Who knew? Not anyone here, that was for sure.

Besides, had he known Jane and Henry had a girl like that then he would have knocked his teeth out himself to meet her.

"They haven't seen me in quite some time. It's been a few years and I wanted to surprise them."

"Down the main street. You'll see the practice on the right," he said casually.

Not wasting any time, Hermione rose from her place and practically ran out the door.

The last man, who had just finished his drink gazed at the untouched glass upon the bar. "She left her VB. Can I have it?"

John shook his head and growled. "Get nicked!"

* * *

"Hermione Jean Granger!"

The witch winced as she heard her mother shout her full name for what seemed to be the seventh time.

"Don't think you'll be getting out of this easily young lady," scolded her father.

The Grangers – nee Grants – had been pleasantly pleased upon first seeing her. They had thought to have a new patient. What followed was said perceived patient levelling her wand towards their puzzled faces and muttering a series of counter spells that knocked them off their feet.

When they had come to, both Henry and Jean were less than pleased with their only child and it lead to a rather heated discussion that continued to this point.

Jean started to cry – again. "Oh Hermione. You could have died!"

Hermione felt horribly guilty. "I'm sorry mum."

Jean continued to cry as she leaned towards her husband who looked on the verge of tears himself.

"We love you honeybee."

Upon hearing the endearment fall from her father's lips, Hermione ran into their embrace as she too began to cry. "I'm sorry, forgive me. I needed you both to be safe."

Henry simply placed a kiss upon her curly head. "Hush now girls. We're together now."

Jean began to pepper Hermione's face with kisses as she embraced her child tightly as if afraid to let go.

"I love you so much mum, dad."

"And we love you too honeybee."

"But don't think you're off the hook young lady," continued her mother through her tears. "You're grounded until we figure out what to do with you."

Hermione simply laughed.

Although far too old to be grounded, she could care less. Her parent's had forgiven her and she felt at home in their embrace.

Home. Oh how she missed it.

* * *

Four days, one hour, twenty-seven minutes and five seconds give or take a few. That was how long she had been in Laverton.

At first, she had thought her parents would want to return to London. How wrong she had been.

Her mother, bless her, adored the sweltering sun. Her father had taken up hunting and would go on regular hunts with some of the other men from town. All in all, her parents adored their little Australian town.

Therefore, here she remained. Currently, she was dividing her time between floo calls with her friends in the UK and playing secretary to her parent's practice.

The jingle of bells indicated that there was another customer.

"I may not be a dentist, but I'm fairly sure that three check-ups in the last three days when you obviously have brilliant oral hygiene is a bit overkill don't you think Saint-John?"

"What can I say sheila. I like to be thorough," he stated with a wink.

He swaggered, because his walk couldn't be called anything but, towards her desk and propped himself on the corner like he belonged there. Considering the amount of time – and money – he was spending in the reception area, he practically did.

"So what is your excuse this time Saint-John?"

John sucked in a breath through his teeth. Since when did he have a problem with the opposite sex? Since he met this little Sheila here.

She was smart, sexy and all kinds of funny. Didn't help that she liked to wear short things that showcased those legs of hers. Made a mate as mad as a cut snake!

That and he found his daks on the tight side. Sheila mad him toey with a simple look.

"Saint-John! You're back," said Jean with a brilliant smile.

John turned on that oh so charming smile of his and bowed rather gallantly to the elder woman. "G'Day Mrs. Grant. I just came by to see Hermione here. I thought she might like to go down the road for a sanger."

Hermione frowned. She still had no idea what the bloody hell he was talking about.

Her mother apparently understood because she smiled brightly at the invitation. "Hermione would love to have lunch with you."

The brunette's eyes widened. "I would?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Asked Jean.

Hermione blushed.

"C'arn sheila. I promise that I'll teach you strine," said John as he leaned towards the petite brunette.

She leaned back.

John grinned at the familiar action. He'd have her leaning towards him one day.

"Go ahead Hermione. Have some fun!"

"I suppose I could go for a bite," she conceded.

John grinned. "C'arn sheila! Say ta to the oldies and we'll grab a middy on the way!"

Hermione looked absolutely helpless – and confused – as she was dragged away by the excited blonde who continued to speak rapidly with his usual slang.

The witch could only follow and catch a few words here and there. She really hated Australian vernacular.

* * *

**AN:** RE-POST

A series of inter-connected one-shots that I'll add to when I feel like it.

Cocky, loud and so very Aussie. That's Pyro!

I wanted a way to connect Hermione and Pyro and then I remembered that Pyro is actually Australian and where did Hermione send her parent's off to? DING DING DING!

I've actually had this story in my harddrive. I just haven't gotten around to finishing it. Now that it's done, I can add on to it when I feel like it.

Of course expect another one-shot where John reveals he's a mutant and Hermione reveals that's she's a witch!

Ah yes, the slang. I'll give you a dictionary because Lord knows that I needed one when I was writing this:

Sheila – woman/girl

Chick/Chicky – pretty girl

Back O'Burke – in the middle of nowhere

Pommy – British person

Zonked – tired

Skul – guzzle down a beer with a breath

G'Day – Good day/greeting

Aggro – aggravated

VB – brand of beer in Australia

We'll be apples – we'll be alright

Beaut' – Beauty (does not usually refer to a person, in this case, it's referring to Hermione's name)

Bizzo – Business (none of your "bizzo")

Mad as a cut snake - Crazy

Get nicked/Rack off – Go away!

Rootable – fuckable

Toey – horny

Daks – trousers/pants

Strine – Aussie slang

Ta – Bye

Oldies – Parents

Middy – a middle sized glass of beer

Down the road – an unspecified distance

Hope I got it all.

I will say right now I'm NOT Australian and I got these terms off the internet. I'm not sure if they're all correct, but I did my best.

Review?

**Banana Flavored Eskimo**


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